Arguments
by IrishBookworm3
Summary: One-shot. Some of the gods get into an argument, and someone else gets hurt. Hera's POV.


I walked into the Olympian throne room, my husband Zeus by my side. Overhead, the midnight blue ceiling showed the positions of the many stars and constellations. Orion stood proud, dominating the sky this evening. In the corner, Crux hid, not drawing the eye. Ironic, since it represented one of the more prominent religions which had replaced us. Draco, the dragon, snaked across the eastern sky, daring any other star to take his place.

I tore my eyes from the ceiling, and walked over to my silver throne. Almost immediately after I sat down, my son Ares stood with a complaint. I heaved a sigh, for he did this every year, and looked at my companions. To my right sat Zeus, resplendent on his golden throne etched with lightning bolts. Along the western wall, the male gods were lined up in order of age. Poseidon sat closest to his younger brother Zeus. His throne, instead of being made of precious metal, resembled a modern fisherman's chair, the only difference being that his trident occupied the slot originally meant for a fishing rod. Like me, he looked utterly bored with the proceedings. My other son Hephaestus sat beside him, wearing grease-stained overalls, clearly having come here directly from his workshop. He was resting his left leg on the part of his throne which he had designed especially for that purpose. He still needed a brace on his leg, five thousand years after falling off Mount Olympus. His throne was rigged with dozens of traps, a special surprise for anyone who tried to sit on it. Ares' throne was empty, as he was still complaining. I'm not sure what he was complaing about; I think he had a problem with Dionysus. His throne was a rather barbaric affair: barbed wire along the edges, with rather suspicious red stains on the leather. The wooden parts were carved with scenes from wars. Apollo sat to the right. For a moment, I thought he was having some sort of fit, or agreeing with Ares. Then I realised that he was nodding his head to the music eminating from his iPod. His throne was made of gold, like my husband's, but Apollo's was tarnished and dull, because it was nighttime. Once the sun rose, his throne would shine so brightly that it would become virtually impossible to look at. Hence, we held most of our meetings at night, since it was bad enough trying to get everyone to agree. We didn't need to be blinded at the same time. Hermes, like Apollo, was completely oblivious to his surroundings. He was tapping away on his iPad, no doubt organising his delivery service. His throne was rather plain, the only decoration being a carving of a caduceus on the back. The real caduceus leaned against the throne. The snakes didn't look too happy about being crushed against a chair. Dionysus had stood to debate against Ares. His throne was woven entirely out of grapevines, with a wine galss perched precariously on the arm. I was surprised that he hadn't taken it with him.

The goddesses sat in the same order, along the eastern wall. My sister Demeter sat next to me, on her throne of wheat. Like Dionysus, her throne was woven entirely from the plant. Anyone who did not know better would say that the throne would not support her weight. Aphrodite sat beside her. Her throne was an eyewatering shade of pink, with a mirror attached to the right armrest. She was currently fixing a microscopic problem with her mascara. Athena seemed to be one of the only people who was actually interested in the ongoing argument. Her throne was plain as well, because she felt that fancy furniture distracted from the task at hand. The only thing about her throne which reflected her domain was the pile of books beside it. Artemis' silver throne shimmered in the firelight, not as brightly as her brother Apollo's did during the day. She fingered her bow, like she wanted to shoot one of the gods who were arguing. Hestia sat cross-legged beside the fire, which was located in the exact dead centre of the room. She no longer had a throne, as she had given her place to Dionysus when he became a god, in order to avoid civil war. She still stayed in Olympus, to tend the fire. It seemed a great injustice that Hestia, the eldest and one of the most important gods had to sit on the floor while that former half-mortal upstart got a throne. She never complained, though. If I had been subjected to that indignity, I would have insisted that he be made a minor god. After all, we Olympians stand for important things, like the air, the sea, love, marriage, wisdom and many others. What did Dionysus stand for? Wine. Wine and mental illness. Hardly deserving of a place in Olympus.

The argument was starting to get slightly physical now, with Ares pushing Dionysus. Hestia must have been worried, as the flames, which reacted to her emotions, turned ash grey and died down until they were barely flickering above the edge of the pit. As the tension escalated, something Dionysus said struck a chord, and Ares lunged. For Hestia, that really was the last straw. She stood, and placed herrself between them. Ares, unable to halt his momentum,knocked both gods over. Dionysus fell backwards, but Hestia fell sideways, hitting the edge of the fire pit.

The room fell deathly silent. Ares looked horrified at what he had done. He may be the god of war, but he is also very chivalrous, and as such, injuring a lady, however small the wound, hurt him more than any blade ever could. Hestia watched the golden blood well up from her injury, barely staining her pale skin before the wound sealed itself. Apollo finally broke the silence, by saying that the sun chariot wouldn't drive itself, and leaving. One by one, the others followed, until Hestia and I were the only ones left. I asked if she was alright, and she replied by telling me that her small injury would not be the only one suffered. Before I could ask what she meant, she turned and left the room. I looked back at the smear of gold on the fire pit, and pondered her answer. Not the only one. What could that possibly mean? I took one last look at the stain, then left the room as well.

o~O~o

I wrote this for English class. My teacher gave me 100% for it.

Read and review please!


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